


Obsidian Sister

by HerenorThereNearnorFar



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Deaf Character, F/M, Gen, How Sarai Dumped A King And Then Got Back Together With Him On Her Own Sweet Time, Sign Language, Single Parents, sister bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 09:15:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16083068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerenorThereNearnorFar/pseuds/HerenorThereNearnorFar
Summary: Amaya watches the most important person in her life mourn a love, hide a pregnancy, fake a marriage, have a baby, raise a toddler in a war zone, and then still get back together with the most powerful person in the kingdom.And people still think she's the high maintenance sister.





	Obsidian Sister

When Harrow and Sarai were first engaged, the entire kingdom celebrated. Amaya celebrated along with them. Her sister, gorgeous, brave, and always kind even on the very edges of civilization, she deserved her happy ending.

Everyone knew it would be a long engagement, of course. Harrow was still a young king, thrust onto the throne after his parents’ unfortunate passing. He had duties to the Pentarchy and a kingdom to stabilize. Sarai of the Border had responsibilities as well. She had just recently been made Colonel. Not even thirty yet, they each carried a world on their shoulders. It would take time to untangle those responsibilities.

Two months later, the engagement was broken.

Only Amaya knew why. She had been the one her sister had come to in tears. When it became apparent that Sarai could not be swayed, she had read over the letter and helped write a second draft without tear tracks. Even she, first in her sister’s confidences, was never told the man’s name.

“He was a mistake,” Sarai whispered, the morning after she sent the messenger to Harrow- and that was all she would say on the matter.

 

 

 

The people mourned the loss of a future queen, and the people of the Breach mourned the most. Sarai was well loved in her home. But grief wasn’t something you lingered over in the borderlands. Death came too quickly and far too often for people to focus on royal intrigues. Their Sarai was still here, and perhaps that was for the best. When the elves attacked at night over the harsh, ever shifting volcanic terrain you wanted a gifted mapmaker on your side.

For five months, Sarai surveyed, commanded, fought, and won. For five months, her face grew rounder, her seat on her horse shifted subtly.

One evening, when she had to stop redrawing the terrain of the border to go to the latrines three times in one hour, Amaya gently pulled her away from the crowded war table. It wasn’t good military procedure, but in this fortress your comrades were your family and your family was your life. Everyone else was worried too, she could tell.

 _Are you sick?_ she signed anxiously.

“No!” Sarai blurted, and then signed it too for emphasis. “I’ll be fine.”

 _Denying your strengths and weaknesses isn’t just dangerous for yourself, it’s dangerous for your team_ , Amaya reminded her sharply. It was something Sarai had told her when she’d been just a little Lieutenant, struggling to work with peers speaking a different language. _Tell us what’s wrong, we’ll find a work around._

Sarai bit her lip, then leaned around Amaya to look directly at the other, eavesdropping officers. Old General Chet wasn’t even in the war room anymore (her ears did give her trouble sometimes).

“Take me out of combat for a while and I’ll be fine,” she told them, mouth forming the words perfectly.

General Chet’s lip curled. “How long, Colonel?”

A sudden hush Amaya hadn’t expected fell, as if the world was waiting for an conclusion she hadn’t been clued into yet. With some reluctance, Sarai said, “Four months should do it.”

The room broke into applause, leaving Amaya baffled. She understood idiots- the army was full of them and the world had even more. But this behavior was out of the ordinary even for the sentimental old wardogs of the Breach.

She could see dozens of lips saying dozens of congratulations, along with other, murmured exhortations, too rapid and effusive for her to read. They were happy, but it was a measured happiness, as if waiting to see if they had Sarai’s permission to rejoice.

Her interpreter was all the way across the room. Amaya struggled back to her and demanded _What’s happening?_

Kareen, something of an insufferable old lady herself, but with an excellent axe arm, was beaming. _You’re going to be an Aunt!_

Amaya glared back across the room at her sister, now surrounded by not only by the top tacticians in the fight against Xadia but also everyone else passing in the hallways who cared to join in. She looked overwhelmed and a little flushed- possibly even glowing if you cared to be kind about it. Her face was stuck in that in that little smile that only Amaya knew didn’t mean much- smiling came easily to Sarai.

It was hard to shout in sign language, especially across and group of people. Commander Amaya still gave it her best shot.

_Hell of a way to deal with a break up!_

 

 

 

Before the baby was born, they manufactured him a father.

The Breach was a chaotic place and the paperwork was terrible. No matter how hard they fought or how daring their efforts to fight back the draconic menace were, they still lost dozens of soldiers every months. The infirmaries were full of the dying.

It was an easy place to make up a husband.

His name was common, his background was forgettable. He and Sarai had been married for a month- a whirlwind romance after she felt she could not keep her engagement with Harrow. At the end of that month, he’d died.  
  
Luckily, Sarai kept a small company of companions. Unlike Amaya, she was a strategist and a cartographer first, and a warrior second. Her squad was low in numbers, dedicated to stealth and intelligence. In the dark of night they went out in the ash and lava, all alone, and they mapped the shape the ever changing rifts and chasms were taking this week.

It was a dangerous job, and they were heroes, in their own way. They had been honored by the last king of Katolis himself. But they were heroes set apart from everyone else, especially after Sarai’s kingly romance.

If she claimed to have had a secret marriage, and her nearest twenty friends backed her up, few people would actually question it. Many would actually avoid questioning it, for Sarai’s sake.

 

 

 

Callum was a sweet baby, as far as babies went. He started out as a little red blob in Sarai’s arms, and then turned into a soft pink blob who would occasionally allow Amaya to hold him. Sometimes when Sarai claimed he was screaming just to scream, she would go take him to a quiet rampart and sit with him. He’d open his mouth wide as if to argue with her, but Amaya couldn’t hear any complaints.

There weren’t many children at the Breach. Sometimes when Thunder was patrolling the skies too often, the nearby villagers would swarm in bringing their little ones with them but they’d rarely stay long. Soldiers with families or those who fell pregnant would request transfers- the Breach bled parents to be almost as fast as it lost soldiers to battle wounds. The fortress wasn’t safe for a child, even Amaya and Sarai’s parents had realized that, for the most part.

Callum was a rare delight, a novelty and a reminder of homes far away. There was no shortage of conveniently off-duty babysitters for him. Everyone wanted a chance to carry him, play with him, coo over his little head and green eyes.

The next time Amaya found herself out in the field, wrestling an elf with hair the color of liquid gold and eyes like an insect, she thought of her nephew. Then she balled up her fist and threw another punch.

 

 

 

When Callum was seven months old, a letter came from the royal castle that the king was interested in seeing data on the most recent spate of attacks at the Breach- preferably delivered by someone able to explain them in more detail.

As if drawn by magic, everyone around the war table found themselves turning to Sarai. Even Amaya, pressed against the wall with the other junior commanders who were only really there to be taught what a flanking maneuver was, craned her neck.

Sarai kept her head studiously bent over a drawing of some tricky lava flow or chemical vent. Pressed against her chest, Callum was nursing.

General Chet cleared her throat, head bobbing like a bird. “Well, the answer is obvious. It will be most efficient to send someone with experience dealing with His Royal Highness. Commander Amaya, you’ll go.”

There was a moments of whiplash as the room’s focus turned on her. As fun as it was to be a gawker, Amaya was suddenly reminded that she didn’t much like being gawked at. Assaulting a superior officer was tragically underappreciated, she decided, and in spite of its bad rap it had a place in the modern army. That place was here.

 _I’ll be happy to go, General_ she signed because something was probably expected of her.

Chet rolled her eyes. “It’s an order, Amaya, not a vacation suggestion. Give the king my greetings and respect.”

Serene as a smiling statue, Sarai stayed silent, gently bouncing her child in her arms.

 

 

 

“Amaya, wait.”

She had been waiting for this. The whole time she had been in that ornate room, surrounded by priests and lords and Viren with his pale eyes, Amaya had been waiting for Harrow to break character.

At least he’d restrained himself until the end of the meeting. 

She stopped, and let everyone else file past her out into the hall. They were all giving her speculative looks, like they’d been expecting this as well. Viren gave her a little smile and a wave, as if to say, “I’m sorry you have to deal with this too.”

Kareen stayed with her. There was no privacy when you needed an interpreter to speak to 90% of the world.

Harrow closed the door after the rest of his council with a sigh. “My apologies. I know I am a king, but for the next few moments, please tell me if I overstep my bounds. Can I- can I ask how your sister is?”

“She’s fine,” Kareen translated, her whispery old busybody voice not quite conveying the glacial delivery Amaya had been going for. Words ought to be blows, not gentle taps- she couldn't even talk and she knew that. The lisping about the edges, the smoothing out of her intent, it was all unnecessary. 

“And her son, Callum, isn’t it?”

That gave Amaya pause, but of course he would know about Callum. Callum wasn’t a secret, and gossip spread fast.

_Callum is fine. He’s a good baby._

There were other things Amaya could have said, like that he had Sarai’s hair and gentle smile, or that he’d started trying to eat things off the floor, or that he’d pull on his mother’s braid sometimes when she had him in a sling as if to prove he could. But she didn’t owe Harrow any of it, and it wasn’t hers to give away.

“I’m sure he’s the most wonderful child in all of Katolis,” Harrow said, hands coming to rest on the back of a chair. His voice looked uncertain now, with long pauses between every word. “Uh, are you doing well?”

_Yes._

“That’s good to hear,” Harrow nodded gently, and behind him on a perch his big black and green bird copied the motion. “Can I ask you something?”

Sensing that this might take a while, Amaya sat back down in her chair. _You’re the king. Ask away._

King Harrow flinched. He still asked the question. “In strictest confidentiality, a few weeks ago General Chet sent a letter to me expressing her desire to retire. I’ve been thinking of promoting Sarai to replace her. Would that be, erm, good?”

That gave Amaya some pause. Chet was a pillar- she had been serving at the Breach for decades. She was also very old. Quite a few people had been anticipating her retirement over the past few years, and often underneath that anticipation was an unspoken understanding that Sarai would be one of the first people to replace her.

Despite that, Amaya had never really thought the ramifications of such an event through. General Chet was immovable and the prospect of her being moved was suddenly less than ideal.

 _She’d have to come back to the city for a formal promotion,_ Amaya signed furiously, _Is that the point of this?_

The accusation made Harrow reel back. “No, certainly not! I want to see her, of course, I want to talk to her. At the very least I’d like to say goodbye properly. But I wouldn’t do anything she doesn’t want. To be honest, she’s the best person for the job. We both know she’d be good at it.”

Grudgingly, Amaya had to admit that Sarai would excel in command. The Breach was her home turf- the barren landscape outside it was where she thrived. Amid the ash and molten rock, she seemed to come alive. Everyone loved her because she always had a listening ear and a helping hand, she had a brilliant mind for planning, the patience of a mountain, and she was a decent fighter on top of that.

Young and a new mother, she was still the best choice for the job.

 _Just write to her, you big idiot,_ Amaya finally said and stormed out, leaving Kareen to pick up the shards of the conversation and try to glue them back together. There was one good thing having a permanent babysitter was good for- you never had to be the one to call the king stupid to his face.  

 

 

 

Amaya was playing with Callum when Sarai opened the letter. Harrow had done a good job of disguising it inside another, less objectionable missive from Viren about a need for rare spell components from the border (He trusted Sarai more than anyone else. Sarai apparently “didn’t break things” and “knew how to tell fire dwelling spiders apart from common salamander mites,”). Neither of them expected it. 

When she was done reading the letter, Sarai said something. Keeping one hand on the unsteadily standing Callum so he wouldn’t topple to the ground, Amaya looked up at her and signed, _Repeat that?_

“I said I’m going to murder him.”

Callum let go of the edge of the bed and his chubby ten month old legs started to collapse from under him. Amaya scooped him into her lap, not letting her gaze drift away from Sarai’s face. _Who, Viren? I won’t stop you, but that seems a bit extreme._

“Oh, Viren deserves death too,” Sarai said distantly, combing her fingers through her loose hair. “He helped him.”

Many times in her life, Amaya had been accused of being overly blunt, socially obnoxious, needlessly presumptive, and even intentionally obtuse. The army didn’t breed empaths. But for once, she knew exactly what was going on.

_Harrow? I wondered when he’d finally do it._

“It’s just so unnecessary!” Sarai complained. “I wanted to do the right thing and let him get on with his life, but clearly he can’t move on.”

For all her grace and gentility, sometimes Sarai was a bit of a drama queen. Something about having a will made out of solid steel made her prone to taking things a little too far in the name of justice. (Fortunately, Amaya had never been accused of taking things too far. Ever.)

 _Then don’t write him back._ Callum giggled as his aunt blew on his fine baby hair.

Sarai looked appalled. “Of course I’m going to write him back. It’s only polite.”

Still visibly fuming and yet consumed with some other emotion Amaya was too terrified to categorize, she turned around.

Moving softly, Amaya signed to Callum, _Your mom is very silly._

In the small, regulation grade mirror over the little camp desk, she caught sight of Sarai’s lips moving. It almost looked like she was saying, “Who does he think he is, the king?”

 

 

 

It was hard to tell how often she and Harrow wrote. In fact, Amaya made a point of not asking about it.

She did know that Brigadier General Marei, a bookkeeper and pragmatist in her forties, was promoted over Sarai. She also knew that Sarai didn’t seem to mind much. Admittedly Sarai had never cared for rank at all, but she had a child now and the general’s quarters actually had room for Callum to grow up in them. It seemed like she ought to care for his sake, at least.

It was more than that- she was happier as well. After Harrow, she had become more withdrawn, less forgiving. Now she was back to her old self, without the layer of armor between the Sarai Amaya knew and the world outside.

All her old hobbies had come back as well- riding ten miles on her day off to buy pounds of sweets from the nearest village, sketching pictures of soldiers for their sweethearts back home, and collecting obsidian chunks on missions for the amateur geologist on her squad. She was perfect- impossible to live up to. Amaya had almost forgotten how annoying it was.

Over the next few months, Callum started walking. At first, he could only make it a few steps at a time before falling to the ground- but those days were gone quickly. Before Amaya even noticed it, he was running and he was _fast_.

It wasn’t an ideal situation in a place surrounded by lakes of fire, where a fall off the walls meant falling onto spikes of igneous rock and also into a war zone. She was beginning to realize that there was perhaps a reason children didn’t live at the Breach.

 _I’ve been thinking of taking a job somewhere else_ , Sarai informed her one day while they ate dinner together, a rare moment off between what felt like constantly conflicting shifts. _Just for a few years. But I don’t want to leave you._

 _It’s what’s best for Callum,_ Amaya said, still chewing her cooked potatoes. She had been expecting this. She didn’t have to like it, but it wasn’t unexpected. _I’ll be fine._

 _Are you sure?_ Sarai pressed. _If Kareen can’t follow you into battle anymore, I don’t want you stuck inside at a desk. It would be a disaster- you know, for everyone around you. And without me…_

She had always been overprotective. It was strange, even as a child, isolated from most of her peers by barriers of language, Amaya had always been able to fight for herself. Despite this, Sarai still insisted on taking care of her. If someone tried to push her around or questioned her abilities, they found themselves under attack by both sisters. Truly, a cruel fate for common bullies, but not an entirely undeserved one.

 _I’ll be fine_ , Amaya insisted again, trying to convince herself as well as her sister. The truth was, she was worried as well. Everyone under her command could understand enough sign to follow simple orders like Attack, Retreat, or Pass The Eggs, which allowed her to function on the battlefield and in the canteen. Her direct subordinates and closest friends could even follow a simple conversation. But in a difficult situation simple was rarely enough. And Kareen was getting on in years. Her old elven arrow injury was flaring up. When Callum was around talked wistfully about her grandchildren- two year old twins who lived days away.

When it came down to it, Amaya had spent most of her career relying on the certainty that if things went terribly wrong, she could trust Sarai to understand what she was saying. It was a faint reassurance when Sarai out on late night patrols or gone for weeks, but the faith remained. Her sister was her escape route.

She pulled her emergency card. _If it comes down to it, I_ can _yell._

Amaya hated the feeling of speaking, the uncertainty of creating sounds without knowing what actually came out. She almost never spoke, but she _could_. Like a sword, vocal cords grew rusty with disuse and she’d always preferred a shield to a blade, but a falchion was a falchion. It was good for certain things.

Sarai looked unconvinced. _Could you get another translator on short notice though? You know it takes ages for requests to go through here._

 _The second cook’s son,_ Amaya said quickly, improvising wildly. _His father is mute. She says he’s been thinking about joining the army, as a healer’s helper or a stableboy._ It paid to be on good terms with cooking staff so Amaya listened to a lot of life stories. The second cook could understand sign language, so at least she was tolerable. _They live just past the ashline too, very close._

_Amaya, I’ve met that boy. He’s no older than sixteen!_

She shrugged, unapologetic _. Old enough. Where are you going to try to go?_ Changing the subject quickly might distract from the fact that she’s trying to bring a lanky teen who flinched at weapons and sunburnd in winter into the Breachlands.

Besides, she wanted to know where Sarai intendd to take Callum. There weren’t many jobs suited to her skillset outside of the fortress. She could be a common officer anywhere, or a census official, but both would be a waste of her talents.

A sudden, unprecendented blush spread over Sarai’s neck and face. “I was thinking maybe the city,” she said carefully, switching to her native tongue. “There are a lot of opportunities for Callum there and it’s very safe.”

Amaya almost fell out of her chair, gasping with laughter. When she’d finally recovered control of her hands, she signed over the table, _Say hi to his majesty for me._

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” Sarai claimed, reaching out her fork for another bite of oily stew.

 

 

 

It was strange without Sarai around, but she’d expected that. She hadn’t quite expected how much she would miss Callum’s small, insistent presence and the constant smell of half chewed bread and talcum powder.

But life moved on. It had to. The afternoon after they left, a roaming patrol ran into Moonshadow elves- the worst kind- and Amaya had to lead a rescue mission to bring them back. They came home with 24 out of the original 40. It was, given the track record of Moonshadow elves, a _resounding_ victory.

“You’re on the path to success, Commander,” one of Amaya’s Lieutenants joked. “First Moonshadow elves, next we’ll be able to take down Thunder himself.”

Three weeks later, a letter came from Sarai.

It said that Callum was adjusting well, that he loved seeing trees that weren't choked by constant smog and thunder storms, that her new job with some unbearably boring archival bureau was predictably dull, and that the handmade toffee she loved so much was still proof that the candymaker was a secret dark mage. Attached was a little bag of the stuff that Amaya was going to have to hide and distribute under conditions of absolute secrecy. Fancy city food was the sort of thing you killed for this close to Xadia.

At the bottom it read, _Postscript: King Harrow says hello as well._

Simply because he sister was half a country away and couldn’t tackle her for it, Amaya started to tap the onerous pace of a wedding march, before dissolving into quiet laughter.

Well, she wasn’t one for jumping to conclusions. Patience was, as Sarai always reminded her, a virtue.

 

 

 

At the wedding reception, Viren sidled up to her. Surrounded by posh diplomats and high ranking soldiers, Amaya could find few ways to escape.

Viren wasn’t the worst, she had to admit. Dark magic was slimy, and its practitioners were never the sort of people you could trust, but so far he hadn’t done anything to make her question his motives. The king and Sarai adored him.

Today there was a boy clinging to his robes, a few years older than Callum, with Viren’s light eyes and strong jaw. When he smiled at her, she saw he was missing almost half his teeth. Just as quickly, he buried his face back in his father’s side. That would be the older one then- Viren's daughter (and Callum) had already been put to bed after a few exhausting hours of festivities.

The mage ducked his head, “Sorry, could you just pretend we’re talking about something important? There is someone here I’d rather avoid.”

She wasn’t in the habit of doing favors for people, but it was a wedding. With some reluctance she leaned in and signed, _You know your kind of conversations aren’t my strength, right?_

Even if he didn’t understand the exact words, Viren clearly understood the gist. He quickly started scanning the room. “Of course, of course. Where is your usual- ah-”

Amaya shook her head. She’d let Gren go outside. He was still a teenager, a country boy in a room full of Katolis’s finest. He’d needed some air.

 _Just me._ Me was self-explanatory at least, and she punctuated the sharp gesture towards her chest with a glare.

“And using dark magic to help is a no?” Viren enquired, hand hovering over his ornate belt. At Amaya’s second, more pointed glance, he let it rest back on his son’s head. “My apologies. I should have known what to expect from someone with your illustrious background.”

That earned him at least a small smile. The happy couple were surrounded by laughter and a crowd so dense only Harrow’s braids and the flash of their new, matching crowns could be seen.

“Are you a soldier?” Viren’s son asked, after a pause. He looked about eight, full of energy and the strange shyness of children in equal measures. He was also talking to the ground, which in an adult would have been inexcusable, but in a child was merely charming. “Because I want to be a soldier when I’m older. Dad thinks magic is better and Mom thinks talking and stuff is better, but that’s silly. Magic doesn’t get you a _horse_.”

Viren sighed. “Soren, we’ve been over this. Magic can acquire you _many_ horses.”

Amaya bent a little to be closer to the boy. Her interactions with children were limited to Callum, but surely she could communicate a little without Gren. She wasn’t helpless and there was one language all people spoke, the language of action.

She pulled her shiny shield off her back. It had been hard to get Sarai to let her wear any weapon to a wedding, much less one big enough to sled on, but it was part of her dress uniform (she’d made them change the regulations just for her). They’d settled on a useless ceremonial relic from the armory- with a few important adjustments.

Soren stared at in awe and his reflection stared back. “ _Wow_.”

She pointed to a small symbol on the face, plated on top of the old metal. Soren stared at it in confusion for a few moments, before his father leaned down and whispered something unreadable in his ear.

“The Breach! You’re from the Breach? Did you fight elves? Did you fight with Queen Sarai? I heard she once saved a whole battalion by leading the elves into a lava that was still hot. She would have won completely if they didn’t have Sunfire magic!”

Sarai was something of a hero, she thought, with a smile. Now she would be remembered forever.

“She’s her sister,” Viren explained, with the endless patience of a parent, and Amaya saw the joy somehow brighten.

“Oh!” Soren shouted, causing other guests to look over at them. Now Amaya could easily read what he was saying- he was broadcasting every syllable. “You’re General Amaya! You're famous!”

Well, that was a first.

**Author's Note:**

> Some additions I didn't get to in the text.
> 
> Sarai is very much the golden girl. She can do it all! Stealth ops, command, attacking, retreating. She's a good fighter too, but her real skills lie in coming up with creative solutions to problems. (Which is probably why Viren kind of respects her.) After Callum is born even the people who resented her weird ideas end up a little too invested in her life just because the presence of a baby is a big thing in their literal hellscape. 
> 
> I left their background kind of ambiguous on purpose. Are they nobility? Are they from a military family? Did they grow up near the capital or closer to the border? The only thing that's certain is that they're both way too intense. 
> 
> Amaya ends up getting promoted very fast when Callum is 2-4 when a lot of the upper command dies in a real rough attack. She's still a baby general when Sarai and Harrow get married but she's up there. 
> 
> The person Viren is hiding from is his ex. He absolutely seems like the sort of person to have had an acrimonious divorce that he was totally at fault for. Soren is, of course, totally oblivious and just wants to be allowed to stay up late enough to eat cake.


End file.
